


A Desperate Deception

by ProfessorKnits



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-25 18:43:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessorKnits/pseuds/ProfessorKnits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From kmeme prompt.  Hawke is deeply depressed after the loss of his mother.  Varric, knowing Hawke is in love with Anders, sends him in to play at love in the hope of bringing Hawke out of it.  Anders agrees, reluctantly.  And then....</p><p>“Blondie, you know perfectly well what I mean.”  Anders didn’t reply.  “Hawke has been head over heels for you from the first moment he set eyes on your shabby self.  Now, I don’t like doing this, but Hawke is my friend and I don’t like seeing him like this.  I admit it, I’m worried.  He’s gone through some rough patches before, but I’ve never seen him like this, and there’s no end in sight but the one we’re trying to avoid letting him find.  He’s not used to being alone like this.  He’s always had that family of his.  And now he has that whole mansion to himself, more or less.”</p><p>	“I have a feeling I won’t like where this is going,” Anders murmured, expression unsettled and unhappy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Desperate Deception

“Oh, is Hawke not here again?” Merrill asked, settling herself at the old familiar table.

“Apparently he’s decided not to join us again, Daisy.”

“Well, that’s a shame. I’ve missed him. I don’t think I’ve seen him once since his mother…”

“I don’t know that any of us have really seen him lately,” Varric mused.

“That’s not true,” Isabela piped up. “Anders has seen him.”

Anders sighed as he felt all attention shifting to him. “Yes, I’ve seen him a few times. He’s needed patching up. Though really, a few times I’ve wondered how he’s even managed to get himself as far as my clinic. Or if he even wanted to be there. He stumbles in, looking disoriented from blood loss, then tries to push me away when I start healing him.”

“Can’t understand why anyone would want to push you away,” Fenris muttered.

“At least he’s coming in for healing, even if it is just muscle memory leading him in. I’ve gotta say, I’ve gotten rather worried about our esteemed Hawke lately. I’ve heard rumors that he’s been heading out to the Wounded Coast and the Bone Pit alone, fighting off raiders and giant spiders without any backup.”

“Don’t forget that he’s also cutting his way through the Carta,” Anders pointed out, frowning. 

“I’ve tried to have some of my men tail him to make sure he stays out of too much danger,” Aveline added, “But he always notices and slips away. Always in the worst areas for anyone to be alone in.”

“Suicide is a sin in the eyes of the Maker,” Sebastian pointed out helpfully.

“That would be why he’s trying to get someone else to do it for him, then,” Anders sniped back. “And he’s doing a damn good job of making sure there isn’t a damn thing we can do about it.”

“Yes, we rogues can be pretty sneaky that way,” Isabela agreed, amicably. 

“Make him stop it!”

“Look, I’ve already offered to screw him until he couldn’t feel the pain anymore, but he wasn’t interested. Can you imagine?” she added, turning to Fenris and running her hands suggestively over her breasts. He didn’t reply, but his eyes did glitter with some banked emotion and he licked the corner of his lips, unconsciously.

“As if sex could heal the pain of losing your entire family, Whore,” Aveline sighed, shaking her head. Isabela pretended not to hear her.

“Are we going to play anyway?” Merrill asked, wide eyes taking in her companions. There was a long silence as they all glanced around at each other, somehow managing not to look directly at each other. “Well, in that case, I’m going to go find some flowers to give to Hawke. I know they won’t do much, but maybe they could make him smile, for a moment.” Merrill stood, smiled briefly at her friends, and left.

“I should be going as well,” Aveline conceded, pushing herself to her feet. “Rumor has it that there’s a group of slavers trying something tonight and I’d rather make sure to send extra guards as backup for when Hawke inevitably charges in without thinking.”

“I will go pray to the Maker that our friend will find peace.”

“And I’ll go to the Blooming Rose and see if I can arrange a special deal for him to cheer him up!” Isabela announced. She reached down and grabbed Fenris by the arm, pulling him to his feet. “And you’re coming with me.” Fenris didn’t look pleased by the idea, but he didn’t object.

“And I should get back to my clinic so that I can be sure to be on hand when Hawke comes staggering in covered in blood.”

“Actually, Blondie, hold on a minute. I’d like a word with you.”

Anders remained seated, staring at his hands where they were folded on the table top as the rest of their companions filed out. “What is it?” he asked when they were alone.

“I’m not totally convinced it’s only healing he’s slouching down to Darktown for.”

Anders sat up straighter and shifted in his chair uncomfortably. “Then it must be the alluring scent of piss and death, I suppose. Reminds him of the Hanged Man.”

“Blondie, you know perfectly well what I mean.” Anders didn’t reply. “Hawke has been head over heels for you from the first moment he set eyes on your shabby self. Now, I don’t like doing this, but Hawke is my friend and I don’t like seeing him like this. I admit it, I’m worried. He’s gone through some rough patches before, but I’ve never seen him like this, and there’s no end in sight but the one we’re trying to avoid letting him find. He’s not used to being alone like this. He’s always had that family of his. And now he has that whole mansion to himself, more or less.”

“I have a feeling I won’t like where this is going,” Anders murmured, expression unsettled and unhappy.

“Hawke is a good friend to you. He’s had your back when it would have been easy for him to cast you off. I know I don’t need to remind you of this. And I know you care about him as much as the rest of us do. If you could find a way to … keep him company, distract him. Get him out of himself by giving him what he wants, maybe it will be enough and we can pull him out of this downward spiral he’s in.”

“You want me to pretend to love him.”

“To save his life. He’s dying, Anders,” Varric stated bluntly, eyes boring into those of the apostate. “Give him a reason to live. You care enough about him for that, don’t you?”

Anders swallowed thickly. “I don’t like it. I don’t like deception. And what about when he finds out? You can’t be expecting me to stay with him forever.”

“We’ll deal with it as we need to. Right now, my primary goal is to pull him out of this. We’ll worry about the rest later.”

Anders stuck his nail into a thin crack in the wood and slid it up and down, thoughtfully. From time to time his head would shake as if involuntarily, and his lips would twitch like he was having a private conversation with himself that he wasn’t particularly enjoying. “There’s no guarantee it would work,” he said at length.

“I know that. But I also know Hawke. If anything will work, it’s you.”

“He might not believe me. I don’t know if I can fake it convincingly.”

“Who was it who told me about all his conquests during his escapes from the Circle?”

Anders chuckled mirthlessly. “I was a very different man back then. Younger, stupider, more charming.”

“Cleaner.”

“Hey!”

“I’m just pointing out that eau de Darktown isn’t exactly alluring, Blondie. Might want to consider a bath before you go over to try to seduce our fearless leader.”

“You know, Isabela already tried that.”

“He’s not in love with Isabela.”

“Augh,” Anders groaned, slipping his head forward to let it bang against the table. “Fine, I’ll try. But don’t expect it to work. Or for me to be happy about it. You’re going to owe me so many drinks for this.”

“As if you’re doing this because I asked you to. You’re doing it for Hawke, the same reason we all do anything, when it gets right down to it.”

“You’re probably right about the bath, though,” was the muffled remark, as Anders found that from the table his head was a lot closer to the rest of him than he was accustomed to.

“I’ll order you one.”

~~~~~~

Bathed and wearing clean, borrowed clothes (which he wasn’t entirely happy about, but Varric had promised his clothes back the next day), Anders approached the door of the Hawke estate. It was hard going, making himself approach the door. His sense of guilt at manipulating Hawke, his worry that it wouldn’t work and his friend would die, his fears that he couldn’t make himself convincing, and Justice lecturing him at the back of his mind, all weighed heavily on him and made every step seem a mile. And yet, he managed to reach the door, and with extreme reluctance, he lifted his hand and knocked, hard. 

In response, the dog started barking and there was a loud crash and some shouting. Anders tried the door and found it unlocked, so he let himself in. Mutt greeted him at the door, torn between looking happy to see a familiar face, and upset at the current state of his master. The helpful dwarven types were nowhere to be seen, likely seeking cover somewhere safer. And there was a smashed vase on the floor, dead flowers scattered around it.

“Well, here goes nothing, eh?” Anders murmured to the dog before advancing to the center of the room and calling out, “Hawke?”

A violent thumping sound had been coming from a room at the top of the stairs, but it paused. “Anders?”

“I’m glad I caught you,” Anders began, making his way up the staircase nervously. “I assumed you’d be going out tonight to almost get yourself killed again.” He reached Hawke’s bedroom door and found that the sound had been Hawke pounding his fist over and over against the wall. There were cracks in the plaster, and a few smears of blood. Hawke was standing, facing away from him, looking down at his hand as if he’d never seen it before. The sight of the blood pulled Anders out of his doubts in ways that his worry for his friend couldn’t. Ever the healer, he crossed the room to Hawke and gently took his bleeding hand into his own, lightly tracing over the injuries and healing them. “I hate seeing you like this,” he confessed, softly, not looking at Hawke’s face.

Hawke just stood there, a brooding, hurting presence, apparently watching the wounds on his hand heal up. They stood there a long time in silence, Hawke’s hand just resting there in Anders’ grasp. Finally, Hawke cleared his throat. “Did you just come here to lecture me about going out by myself. Because I’ve already heard it all.”

“No, that’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Hawke, I… I missed you. I’ve been worried about you. I haven’t seen you not covered in blood in weeks.” He pulled a hand away from Hawke’s and reached up to cup the bristly cheek. He winced internally at the manipulative gesture, but once his hand was resting there along Hawke’s jaw it felt comfortable and natural and he admitted that a concerned friend might make such a gesture without a deeper meaning. 

His excuse quickly flickered out as Hawke rubbed his cheek against the hand, eyes closing in a strange mixture of pain and contentment. Still, with those blue eyes closed, Anders felt himself relax a bit. Swallowing, he leaned in and lightly brushed his lips across Hawke’s. Hawke stiffened and pulled away abruptly, eyes wide.

“Anders! The hell are you doing?”

“I … thought that was obvious.”

“You… you….”

“Yes.”

“But you said! You said you weren’t interested!”

The memory rose up between them then. A night a year ago, in the clinic. Hawke, drunk, had staggered in full of enthusiasm and Isabela’s encouragement and confessed his feelings for the healer. Anders still remembered the feeling of his stomach falling down to his feet at the confession he had hoped would never actually come out between them. He had turned him down, flatly, briefly, stepping back to get away from Hawke. As the rejection had sunk in, Hawke’s face had transformed from happy hopefulness to the deepest despair and shock. He had left as abruptly as he’d been turned down, and it had been months before they had started to get along again with anything like their old comfort.

“I… wasn’t,” Anders forced out around the knot in his throat. “Or, I thought I wasn’t. I don’t know. You surprised me. Times change.”

“Times change,” Hawke repeated, slowly.

“They do,” Anders persisted. “Seeing you like this. Hawke, I’d do anything to help take some of your pain away.” And that much was true, he acknowledged to himself ruefully.

“Really?”

“Really.”

This time it was Hawke who advanced, placing his hands firmly on Anders’ slim shoulders and pulling him in for a fierce kiss. Anders whimpered softly at the force of it, but raised his hands to rest on Hawke’s arms, holding him there. Maybe it won’t be so hard to fake it, he mused, as he felt his long neglected body start to respond to the passion in that kiss. It wasn’t as if he found Hawke unattractive, after all. And it had been a very, very long time since he had been touched.

What happened next was a blur of shed clothing, hands and lips everywhere, bedclothes tangling around them, a pause as Mutt was kicked out unceremoniously and the door shut in his face, and heat and passion and pleasure, and when it was over, Hawke had his face tucked into Anders’ neck and he was crying while Anders just held him, cheek against his forehead, thanking the Maker that for one night Hawke wasn’t out trying to get himself killed. The guilt was held at bay by the feelings of sexual satisfaction, and relief that Hawke seemed to be opening up, at least a tiny bit, and dealing with his grief, though Anders suspected it would catch up with him in the morning. Justice would inevitably make sure of it. Lightly he ghosted a kiss across Hawke’s brow, holding him more firmly in his arms. For now, he felt like he was doing all he could, and maybe, just maybe, Varric would be proven right.

The only question was, how long could he keep it up?

~~~~~

Waking up was wonderful and disorienting at the same time. The bed was unfamiliar, but so soft and warm, and surprisingly large. His feet weren’t hanging off the end, his hand wasn’t resting on the ground, and for once he didn’t have a kink in his back and a twist in his neck from sleeping on a rickety cot. And he wasn’t cold down to his very marrow, as he had been for the last two weeks in his clinic as the weather changed. Nothing itched, nothing ached, except in a pleasant way he was quite familiar with and thus dismissed out of hand. That was, until he opened his eyes to the morning sun across sumptuous bed curtains and he remembered where he was and why. All of his feelings of contentment were swept away by guilt and his mind started racing, running through all the ramifications and when and how he could possibly get out of this without making Hawke worse- assuming he’d actually made him better to begin with.

Hawke wasn’t there, he noted with some relief. Anxiety starting to build in his chest, he pushed himself up against the pillows and looked around at the clothing strewn across the floor. Justice, he could tell, was not pleased with him, a low grade murmuring at the back of his mind like the mother who could do nothing but mutter imprecations at her children under her breath. Well, at least he wasn’t screaming at him, so that was nice. One problem at a time.

He knew he should really climb out of the bed, pull his clothes on, and run off to the Hanged Man to yell at Varric for talking him into this in the first damn place, but the bed was remarkably soft, and despite the guilt, he felt disgustingly content. It had been a very, very long time since he’d had it off with anyone. So long that he’d occasionally wondered if he was even capable of doing so anymore. He’d rather come to the conclusion that he wasn’t. “So, celibacy will be a burden again, then. Wonderful,” he muttered. “Just when I was getting used to it.”

Groaning, he finally forced himself to swing his legs out of the bed. His feet hit the floor just as Hawke arrived in the doorway with a tray of food and a smile, the first smile Anders had seen on his face since before the death of his mother. “You aren’t leaving now, are you?” Hawke asked, his smile turning into an expression of worry.

“I was considering it,” Anders admitted warily. Hawke had been smiling. Varric must not have been all wrong. That only made it worse, somehow.

Now Hawke’s expression took a decided downward turn. “I know you need to get back to your clinic to do all that life saving you do because you’re so disgustingly noble, but… do you think that maybe you could go down later? Spend some time with me first? I made breakfast.”

How could he say no to that hopeful look? “Well, I guess things have been a little slow lately, with the exception of parents bringing in children with a cold. All my magic, but I can’t cure that, and they don’t seem to accept it. It would be nice to spend a few less hours being yelled at.” The scent of bacon struck him then and his stomach rumbled, loudly. “Also, I guess I might be a little hungry.”

Hawke’s smile returned and he gestured with a toss of his head for Anders to scoot over, and then he seated himself with the tray next to him on the wide bed. There was bacon, and eggs and toast, and two cups of tea. A pang ran through Anders’ chest, but he wasn’t sure what the source was. He always had liked bacon. “Thank you, Hawke,” he said softly, stealing a particularly crispy piece.

“When’s the last time you got to eat anything?” Hawke asked, picking up a slice of toast.

“Yesterday. I don’t completely starve, you know. I don’t look that emaciated, do I?”

Hawke looked him up and down, a lascivious gleam in his eye. “You look delicious, actually. You taste it, too.”

A faint blush flashed across Anders’ cheeks. “Well, so I’ve always heard. But it’s been a while since I’ve had it confirmed for me. So thank you, I suppose.”

“Of course, love,” Hawke agreed amicably, leaning in to kiss Anders on the cheek.

The bacon tasted a bit less mind blowing, for just a moment. To wash the unpleasant taste from his mouth, Anders picked up his cup of tea and took a careful sip. “Oh!”

“What?” Hawke asked around a mouthful of egg.

“It’s just that I’ve forgotten what real tea tastes like. I’ve just been making due for so long with whatever I can scrape together or dry out. Nothing good even grows locally. And I just now realized that I’ve missed it immensely.”

Hawke openly gloated at that. “I guess you’ll have to come around more often. Say, every day.” He looked at Anders from the corner of his eye, “Or you could just move in,” he suggested, quickly shoving some toast in his mouth.

Anders found his hand shaking. “Are you serious? You want me to move in?”

Hawke chewed furiously and swallowed, then shifted to face him more directly. A blush stained his cheeks. “Well, yes. I mean, I’ve loved you for years, Anders, as you know. And you want to be with me. And your living conditions are… I hate seeing how you live. And honestly,” he lowered his voice and eyes, “I don’t like being alone in a big empty house. It doesn’t feel right.” He cleared his throat. “So, would you?”

“I….”

“The cellars lead right down to your clinic,” Hawke pushed, quickly. “It would be really easy to set up an arrangement so that you could be reached in case of an emergency. And you’d be safer here, too. I wouldn’t have to stay up at night worrying about you.”

“You do that?”

“Yes.”

“Hawke…”

“Bacon and tea, Anders. Every morning.”

Anders reached up and rubbed his hands across his face. “Maker, Hawke.” Maker indeed. What did I get myself into? “I’ll have to think about it. I can’t just… so abruptly.”

“I understand,” Hawke replied, though his tone was cold and distant, sounding more as he had the last few weeks. He shifted slightly and only when the warmth of Hawke’s arm against his was gone did Anders notice it had been there in the first place. “It is a bit sudden. And I know you don’t like sudden very much.”

“Yes,” Anders agreed weakly, appetite gone. “I do need to go, Garrett.”

“Of course.”

Hawke didn’t look directly at him as Anders slipped out of bed, pulled on his borrowed clothes, and slunk away, feeling dirty and ashamed and horrible, and not entirely sure why.

~~~~~

“This is hard, Varric, and I hate you for it,” Anders announced, striding into Varric’s suite at the Hanged Man. It was too early in the day for any of their companions to have rolled in, which was exactly what he had been hoping. 

“So you’re not going to be more specific about last night, Blondie? Because inquiring minds need to know the details.”

“What? So you can work them into your ridiculous stories. I’d ask that you please, don’t.”

“And there I thought getting you laid would put you in a better mood. My mistake.” Varric relented then. “Sit down and tell me what happened.”

Anders slumped into a seat. “It did work, but then I think I ruined it.” He explained how he had found Hawke the night before, glossed over the exciting bits in the middle, then went on to breakfast and Hawke’s invitation. The changes in his manner from desperately miserable, to cheerful and open, to cold again. “I’m afraid I undid everything and that I’ve just made things worse. And now I’ll have all this guilt for misleading him, in addition to watching him become suicidal again.”

“You didn’t conclusively cut things off, did you?”

“No.”

“Then we’re still fine. He’s a bit emotional right now. Make sure you go to him again tonight, let him know that you were only rejecting an offer that surprised you, but you weren’t rejecting him. And then you should take him up on the offer.”

“What? You want me to move in with him?”

“I want you to move in with him as much for yourself as for him. That clinic is a mess. If you’ve got a better offer somewhere close, but clean, you should take it.”

“It was hard enough lying to him last night. I don’t think I could keep it up if I lived with him all the time!”

“Old Anders could have, if the stories you told me were true.”

“Old Anders didn’t have a conscience. Old Anders would have done anything he could to get away from the Circle. Current Anders does have a conscience.”

“We know. We’ve all met Justice. But surely even Justice can see it’s in his best interests to keep a strong ally like Hawke around and healthy.”

Anders glared at him. “That’s just low, Varric.”

Varric spread his hands. “I’m a low man, willing to do whatever it takes. And you should be too.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, and Anders was opening his mouth to say something, though he wasn’t yet sure what, when a voice interrupted.

“Varric!”

“Hawke!” Anders was on his feet in an instant, a genuine smile on his face to see his friend out and about and visiting, as he hadn’t done in a very long time.

“Anders,” Hawke replied, a touch of wary warmth in his tone. He reached one hand, just slightly, towards the mage, and Anders took it in a heartbeat, clasping it firmly, glad that he hadn’t ruined everything with his awkwardness that morning. Hawke’s face lit up at the touch and Anders could sense Varric gloating. “I thought you had to be at your clinic.”

“I was. But there was no one waiting, so I left.”

“You could have come back.”

“He wanted to tell me you were okay,” Varric interceded smoothly. “We’ve all been worried. He was planning to head back up and see if you were still at home when he left me.”

“Oh,” Hawke replied, looking surprised, but pleased about it. “Well, here I am instead.”

“And glad I am to see it. Sit down, Hawke, sit down. Rumors have reached my ears that you’ve been doing a lot of killing without us and I need the details so I can add them to the tales.”

“Varric,” Hawke sighed, but he seated himself, pulling Anders down beside him. Slowly, thoughtfully, Hawke began to tell the stories of his latest adventures, and Anders and Varric listened intently, Varric laughing at the appropriate moments, causing answering laughs to escape Hawke. Anders just listened, letting it all wash over him. Casually, without much noticing he was doing it, he slung an arm around Hawke’s waist and pulled him close against him, enjoying the warmth.

~~~

His robes, now clean, back on his back, and Hawke’s arm around his shoulders, Anders was in a pretty good mood. Hawke wasn’t entirely the same carefree rogue he had been before the loss of his mother, but he was very obviously recovering. And while he’d done some drinking when Isabela, Merrill and Fenris had shown up, it had been companionable, not self destructive. And seeing him so much more cheerful had made Anders happy and a lot less guilty. Even Justice had been gracious enough to let him have a few drinks as well, in celebration. And now here he was, with a rather pronounced buzz making his thoughts and vision fuzzy, walking home with Hawke.

“Mmmglad it’s you bringing me home,” Hawke slurred, giving his cheek a sloppy kiss.

“Isabela volunteered. But she woulda molested you,” Anders replied, then snorted. “She’s a slut.”

“Yeah, kinda. Sometimes. Hot though.”

“Yeah,” Anders agreed with a tone of jovial good humor. “I like her.”

“So do I. I like everyone. But I like you best.”

“I like you best too.”

They paused in their staggering to smile at each other for a swimming moment, before pushing onwards to reach Hawke’s front door. Bodhan opened it, murmuring something inane about being glad to see the young Master home safely, but the two men swept past him and up the stairs.

~~~~~

Anders wasn’t sure how he had ended up on his back on the bed, his trousers around his ankles, Hawke kneeling between his legs and giving him the most amazing blowjob he could remember in his life, but he didn’t particularly feel like complaining. The bed was soft under him, the room was warm, and he could swear he still smelled bacon on the air. 

“I’ll do it,” he announced suddenly.

“What?” Hawke pulled his head up to look quizzically at him.

“I’ll move in,” Anders clarified. Then he frowned. “You can carry on then.”

“Right,” Hawke agreed amicably, getting back to work.

~~~~

Two mornings in a row now, Anders had woken up feeling warm and comfortable. Well, mostly. This morning he had a bit of a hangover, which was a revelation. While once he had woken up most mornings with a hangover, at least during his old Grey Warden days, it had been a very long time since he’d had one. Or woken up with a warm arm around his waist and warm chest pressed up against his back. The cuddling more than made up for the hangover, he decided, especially as it was the work of a moment to clear that hangover up. He raised his hand to his forehead and rubbed, lightly, his temple, using a tiny touch of healing magic. His mouth still tasted like a sewer, but at least his head felt better. 

A grumble escaped his bedmate and he carefully rolled over to face Hawke. He had his eyes scrunched closed, face pressed into the pillow. Gently, Anders repeated the hangover remedy on his friend, lover, really, if he was being honest. A great gusting sigh of relief escaped Hawke and he opened his eyes with a blurry smile. “Morning.”

Anders smiled back, feeling a warmth rising in his chest. “Morning.” A brief pause, then, “I was led to believe there would be bacon and tea every morning?”

Hawke burst out laughing. “Cute, Anders. Cute. Because the mind blowing sex isn’t enough for you.”

“I really like bacon, Hawke.”

“Apparently. Give a man a moment. You know, if you weren’t so handy at curing hangovers, I’d be rethinking this whole living together thing.” Hawke had been in the process of sitting up, but at his last statement he stopped and glanced nervously at Anders. “You were serious about that, right? Not just drunk and horny? And it did happen? I didn’t just make it up?”

Flashes came back from the night before. Anders swallowed hard, waiting for the guilt to wash over him. And waiting. But it didn’t. So with a much more cheerful attitude than he had thought to be able to present, he nodded, “I meant it.”

The smile that broke across Hawke’s face could have lit up even the darkest corner of the Hanged Man. “I am so glad to hear you say that, you have no idea.”

“If that smile is anything to go by, I think I can guess.”

~~~~~

Anders was humming as he rolled bandages. He wasn’t particularly aware he was doing it, or why he was doing it, he was mostly just aware that there was a soft, pleasant sound emanating from somewhere nearby. 

“See, I told you he was doing that,” Isabela’s voice broke his contented silence.

“You were right, Rivaini. I guess that Hightown living is doing wonders for him.”

“And for Hawke, too. I swear, the man was almost skipping through the market this morning. It would be ridiculous for a man of his build to skip, but there he was, happy as anything.”

“I guess that’s what love will do,” Varric stated, sagely.

“I can hear you,” Anders remarked, setting down his work and scowling at them. 

“Can you? And here we thought you were off in your own little world, imaging all the wonderful things Hawke can do with those clever fingers of his.”

In truth, that guess was a bit too close to the truth for Anders to feel entirely comfortable, but he scoffed. “Isabela, not all of us keep our minds in the gutter at all times.”

“No. Some apostate mages keep their entire selves in the gutter at all times.”

“When he’s not in Hawke’s bed, anyway.” Isabela and Varric shared a satisfied smirk between them.

“Is there something I can help you with? If you’re here to have your brains scrubbed clean, I’m afraid that’s not a service I can offer.”

“So, how are things going with Hawke, then?” Varric asked, looking incredibly smug.

“I heard Isabela. You heard Isabela. And what hasn’t been heard is reports of him running off to face armed gangs without backup. I think that’s your answer right there.”

“Are you going to give us any details? What’s Hawke like in bed?” Isabela inquired, seating herself on a nearby table. “Inquiring minds need to know. So we can write about it.”

“I’m not giving you any details,” Anders replied sharply.

“Fine. But I’m going to write about it anyway.”

He sighed heavily. “I know.”

“So you really won’t tell me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine. There’s nothing else I want to know then.” She stood up, then paused. “Though if you two get bored at any point and want to spice things up, you know where to find me.” With a wink, she flounced out.

“That woman is really something else,” Anders muttered, though he couldn’t deny that a few creative ideas she had planted were starting to play out in his imagination. 

“She really is. But seriously, Blondie. How are things?”

Anders seated himself and gestured for Varric to do the same. “Generally, about as Isabela reported. He’s mostly happy, I think. This last week he’s completely turned around from where he was. He laughs, he socializes, he invites others out to share the killing and looting we all seem to love so much. Sometimes he still wakes up at night with nightmares about what happened to his mother, and I think he still feels horribly guilty at not getting there in time. He’ll get out of bed, start pacing, start looking for his armor, but it’s easy enough to calm him down and lure him back to bed. He’s not over it. I think he’s purposely focusing on me with so much intensity to avoid dealing with it properly. But maybe he needs that time to numb the pain a bit, before he can deal with it.” Anders shrugged. “It’s not like I’m exactly a paragon of coping, so what do I know? I’m just glad he’s not out trying to get himself killed anymore.”

“What do you think he would do if you cut things off?”

A shadow flickered across Anders’ face. “I think it wouldn’t go well.”

Varric rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Then I suppose I should ask, how are you dealing with this? Are you prepared to have this go on for a while longer?”

“Ugh.” Anders slumped inelegantly down in his seat. “Honestly, I still hate this deception. I really do care about him, so most of the time it’s not too bad. But when he hangs onto me in the middle of the night, telling me how much he loves me and how grateful he is that I changed my mind…”

“I can see why that might be a bit uncomfortable. Still, it’s worth it to keep him alive. Blondie, I do appreciate what you’re doing for our Hawke.”

“I’m afraid of breaking his heart. I worry about it almost constantly when I’m away from him, and a lot of the time when I’m with him. I see him smiling and I can’t help but think how that smile would vanish if he knew what I was really thinking, why I was really there. I…” He shook his head sharply, surprised at himself and the tears he could feel trying to squeeze out. “I wonder how long I’ll be able to get away with responding to his confessions of love with a kiss, rather than with my own confession. And when he calls me on it, I wonder if I’ll be able to lie, even to keep him safe.”

“Well, there’s not really much I can say to that. We knew it was a problematic solution when we came up with it.”

“What do you mean ‘we’?”

“Okay. I knew it was a problematic solution when I came up with it, no matter how nicely it would work in a story. Of course, in the story, the dramatic mage would have seen his beloved hero almost die in combat and would have sobbed out a confession of undying love which would have been enough to bring the hero back from the brink of death to be with him, but hey, life can’t always write as smoothly as fiction. I wish it could. Just remember, you do love Hawke. We all love Hawke. If you have to say it, try telling yourself it’s not a lie. Because it isn’t.”

“I suppose,” Anders muttered, running his hands over his face. “But it’s only just barely not a lie, considering he means something entirely different when he says it.”

“One hurdle at a time.”

“Anders!” 

The familiar voice calling his name made Anders’ head snap up, and a smile cross his face. Varric watched, surprised and then amused, as the mage stood and went to the door of the clinic to greet Hawke. “If I hadn’t just listened to him complaining about his guilt at the ruse, I’d say he was actually in love,” he murmured, rubbing his chin gleefully as he realized another direction the narrative could go. And much more interesting, too.

~~~~

About a week later, Anders was late staggering back to the Hawke estate. A rash of gang violence had broken out in Darktown and both sides had needed a healer. He’d wanted to pay an urchin to run a message to Hawke to let him know, but had gotten too swamped to find the time. Still, he had reasoned when he had a moment to think, Hawke knew what things could be like in the clinic, so he wouldn’t be too surprised or worried, surely. And if he was, he’d just show up to check on him. Thoughts of Hawke and his warm bed and warm arms had increasingly preoccupied Anders as he had finally gotten to the minor injuries and the end of his list of work, and now, as he walked through the night, he was finding himself very, very eager to fall asleep next to his erstwhile lover.

When he arrived, Mutt greeted him at the door with a whimper. Anders thought it somewhat strange, but he had never really understood dogs, so he brushed past with a vaguely confused glance. “Hawke?” he called up the stairs. Everything was dark and silent, and Mutt had fallen into step with him. If Anders hadn’t known better, he’d have thought the dog was worried.

“Hawke?” he tried again, halfway up the stairs. “I know it’s late, but I’m home. Are you here?”

“Anders?” The voice that finally came back to him was quiet and sad, and Anders picked up his pace, all but running into the bedroom.

“Hawke! What is it?” Hawke was sitting on the floor in front of the darkened fireplace, knees pulled tightly to his chest, empty bottles of wine scattered around him. He looked small, and young, and very, very broken. Anders was at his side in a moment, kneeling beside him and wrapping his arms tightly around the other man. “What’s wrong, love?” he murmured against Hawke’s hair, barely noticing the affectionate term of endearment. 

“Thought you’d finally decided you’d had enough. That you weren’t coming back. That something had happened to you and I couldn’t save you and you were gone. Like…” Hawke trailed off and hiccupped, a sad sound, somewhere between drunken and shattered.

“I was in my clinic, Hawke. There was a flood of cases. You know that happens sometimes. You could have come to find me.”

“Thought you wouldn’t be there and then I’d know for sure you were gone,” was the weak explanation. “Thought you’d been taken and I’d never see you again.” Hawke pushed away to look earnestly into Anders’ face. “I’d die if I lost you. I’d make sure of it.”

Anders stared at him, a huge wave of some unnamed emotion sweeping over him, rendering him mute in the face of such despairing love. “Hawke, I’m not going anywhere,” he finally managed to force out, and as he said it he knew it was true. There was no end to the farce. There couldn’t be, and he wasn’t sure he wanted there to be. He grasped Hawke’s face with his hands and pulled him in for a searing kiss. “I’m not leaving you,” he repeated. “And no one is going to make me. Not until you want me to go.”

Hawke’s hands came up to rest on top of his, holding them there. “I never want you to leave me. I love you. I need you.” A brief smile ghosted over his face, full of wistful adoration. “I can’t believe you’re mine now. You know, you’re the only thing that really matters to me anymore.”

“I won’t tell Varric you said that.”

They smiled at each other, foreheads resting lightly against each other. “Hawke…?”

“What?”

“You are more important to me than anyone else I have ever known.”

“Really?”

“Well. Yes,” he admitted, rather surprised to find it was true. Anders hadn’t gotten too close to too many in his life of wandering, but he was shocked at how deeply he meant it now. How very, very deeply. He swallowed, hard, in the face of the new understanding. “I think I’m in love with you,” he added, voice very, very quiet.

“Do you mean that?”

“Maker. I think I actually do.”

“That’s a surprise. I thought you were just sleeping with me to keep me from running off and killing myself.”

“What?” Shocked, Anders recoiled from Hawke’s grasp, but the rogue looked amused.

“I overheard you and Varric at the Hanged Man.” He shrugged philosophically. “I figured, hey, at least you cared enough about me to give it a try, even if you weren’t thrilled about it. Though you couldn’t fake your enthusiasm in bed. I just wanted you enough, and was lonely enough, that I didn’t care.”

“And you’re not angry?”

“Do you really love me? Or is that just playing a role?”

Anders fidgeted with a loose thread on his robes, considering his answer. “I think…” he began, slowly, “That I cared more for you than I accepted when I agreed to Varric’s idea. And I’ve just been denying it for years because I didn’t want to involve you in all of… everything. I’ll hurt you.”

“As long as you don’t leave me, I’m pretty sure I can handle it. You haven’t answered my question.”

Anders shrugged helplessly. “Yes. I do. I love you.”

That brilliant smile blossomed across Hawke’s face again. With smooth ease he pushed himself to his feet and reached a hand down to help Anders to his feet. Without a further word, he guided his lover to the bed and showed him how much he appreciated the admission.

~~~~

“Not a word,” Anders said firmly as he seated himself at Varric’s table. Hawke was getting them drinks while they waited for the rest of their friends to show up for a night of cards. “Not a single damn word, dwarf, or I’ll set your chest hair on fire.”

“Why Blondie, I’m not sure what I could possibly remark on that would upset you so much,” was the reply, the words ringing insincere even without the smug smirk.

“Did you know?”

Varric spread his hands. “Honestly, I don’t think I did. Rivaini and I would joke about it and what a good story it would make if you really were in love with him, but you played it well enough that I couldn’t ever be entirely sure.” He shrugged. “I’m glad it worked out this way, though. It’s poetic. And you’re both a lot happier. Why, you’ve been here for ten minutes already and haven’t said one word about the plight of mages.”

Anders just scowled at him, but it lacked any real venom. 

Hawke returned then, placing a mug in front of Varric, and one in front of his lover. “Hawke, you know I don’t really…”

“I know. If you don’t drink it, I will. I just wanted you to have the option,” Hawke replied, sitting comfortably beside Anders.

“Thanks, love,” was the reply, and the two shared a fond kiss, ignoring Varric as he snickered to himself.

Anders played worse than usual that night, his attention more on Hawke’s hand on his thigh under the table and what he suspected he’d be treated to when he returned to Hawke’s… no, his home that night. Damn Varric anyway. He could only hope that the rest of the story played out with such a happy ending. For now, he’d pretend he believed it would.


End file.
